


House Sharing, Fate Sharing

by chris--daae (AILiSeki)



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: M/M, Romance and Drama, not a comedy, not a crack, technically crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 18:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AILiSeki/pseuds/chris--daae
Summary: A wanderer takes refuge in the cellars of the opera house.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"You can stay here." Said the kind woman, pointing to the dark corridor in front. "I know it's not the most comfortable place, but..." She trailed off.

It was much better than any place he had been in at least the last 16 years, he wanted to say. But his head hurt, the weight of everything that happened that day finally coming to him, and his voice was hoarse, not used to making any sounds but cries of pain and pleas for mercy.

"It will do." Was all he could say. And then, words that he didn't remember using before. "Thank you, Madame."

She gave him a small smile, not that he could see much. He was thankful for the darkness.

"Be careful here, boy." She warned. "You should not extend your stay for long. There are dangerous presences around. Please, leave as soon as you can."

"I will."

He didn't want to say he wasn't a boy. He kept count of his years, and despite his fragile appearance he was already a man. He also didn't want to say that he had already overgrown ghost stories.

He knew reality was much scarier.

Giving a nod, the woman turned away and slowly left. He kept his gaze on her, until she disappeared in darkness.

Then, he rested his bare back on a humid wall. He was so tired. His legs hurt from all the running, unused to any use. The wounds on his back hurt, a familiar company already. His head hurt. His heart hurt. Without warning, his body collapsed to the ground. It was hard and cold, but it did not matter. He allowed sleep to take over.

 

It was usually quiet at night. Except for the usual sounds of night, the footsteps of small creatures and the water dripping, a strange and comforting melody. That night, there was another sound.

Erik heard it as he took a walk in his domain. Like a soft roaring, low and following a pattern. He followed the sound, expecting to find a cat or another animal that could have taken refuge in the cellars.

He didn't expect to find a man lying on the ground.

The sound alone proved he was alive. His body trembled from the cold breeze. He wore nothing but a pair of dirty and ragged pants. His exposed chest and arms were covered in bruises and scars, and a layer that was certainly a mix of dirt and blood. As his chest slowly moved in rhythm with the snoring, his ribs were visible under the injured skin.

Poor creature. Erik decided he didn't mind his presence in the cellars. It was particularly cold outside, and the man certainly had nowhere else to go. He did not see anything he should not, sleeping heavily as he was. If he had stumbled into any of Erik's secrets, his traps would have taken care of him. No, the man's only crime was being all alone in that cold night.

Erik knew well what it was like.

He turned away, starting his walk back home. A shiver ran through his spine. It was really cold, he could still feel it even under all his layers of clothing. He turned his head back to the man.

"No." He whispered to himself, shaking his head. "Erik has nothing to do with him."

He took another step forward, and once again looked back.

"He will freeze to death if he stays here." He reasoned. "What if he does? No one will miss him. Erik certainly will not."

A sigh.

"He's just a nobody. Erik does not have to do anything for him."

A heavier sigh.

"He's just a nobody.", Erik repeated in a softer tone. "If Erik doesn't do this, who will?"

He knelt down and carefully picked the sleeping man in his arms. The man kept snoring, showing no signs of waking up. His scent was worse than that of the stables, like sweat and piss and mud and many other things Erik didn't want to think of.

"He better be thankful, for Erik is saving his life."

 

Erik decided to leave the man in his guest room. He would have to get rid of all the sheets in the morning, as no cleaning would be enough to remove the stains or the smell. Still, he didn't think twice before wrapping him the best he could, making sure he was protected from the cold.

In the light of his home, Erik could take a better look at the man. He was too thin for his height, no fat in his arms and legs. His wounds were all superficial, nothing that required special attention. Still, Erik could see that they were no accident. His dark gray hair was a tangled mess. He had a well defined nose, thin lips, a wide chin. Even in the bad condition he was, he was undoubtedly  handsome. However, the right side of his face was covered by a large red mark, his skin swollen, his eyebrow and hair much thinner in that side. At first it looked like another wound, but Erik soon realized his skin was not damaged. It just... looked like that, ruining what would otherwise look like it was sculpted by the hands of gods. A scar, perhaps. Or a birth mark. Erik's hand went to his own face, touching the fabric of his mask instead.

He knew very well how gods liked playing this way sometimes.

He blew the candles and closed the door on his way out, letting the man rest. As he later crawled into his coffin to get some sleep himself, he could still hear the snoring, a new sound in night's melody.

Erik enjoyed it more than he could admit to himself.

 

The wanderer noticed he was in an unfamiliar place before he opened his eyes. He was covered in softness. Panic rose inside of him. As he opened his eyes, all he could see was one small line of light. A melody was playing on the background.

He tried getting up, but the soft material that covered him was also restraining him somehow, wrapping his limbs. The fear made him helpless to get free, the blankets working like the strongest ropes against his struggling.

The wanderer felt his heart stopping for a second as one of his movements caused a loud banging sound. The melody stopped. He heard footsteps approaching.

He managed to free one of his arms before the door opened, and raised it to his face as the light invaded the room.

At first, all he could see was a shadow against the light. As his eyes slowly got used to it, he identified it as a man's silhouette. He was tall and thin, dressed in all black. A fancy suit, boots, gloves, and a black mask that covered all his face, except for his amber eyes. Eyes that kept a deep stare at the wanderer, who felt like they could see directly to his soul.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Shouted the wanderer, trying to sound braver than he felt.

"I see you woke up." Replied the man, his voice calm and soft.

The wanderer fought against the blankets.

"Answer me, or I will-" He didn't know what he would do, but he was not about to let that man hurt him. Not without a fight. He hesitated, as he didn't know what he was facing, or if there were others around. The only thing the wanderer knew for sure was that he was alone, as always.

"You are the one who should answer, considering you are in my house." The shadow said, unimpressed.

His house, the wanderer noted. A large room with no windows in that stranger's house. His struggling became more urgent.

"I suppose you are homeless."

"Yes." The wanderer answered, not wanting to anger him.

"Family? Friends?" He asked. "A wife?"

Feeling mocked, the wanderer just shook his head. His other arm was finally free.

"No one to miss you if you disappear." The shadow whispered.

In one fast move, the wanderer jumped out of the bed, stopping right in front of the stranger. His raised his fist, but something held his wrist, pressing tightly and painfully. He couldn't see what it was at first, but looking closely he realized it was a thin cord. He tried pulling his arm free, but its hold only grew tighter.

"Don't try messing with the master, boy." The shadow said in a voice that gave the wanderer shivers. "Next time, it could be your neck that my cord will meet."

The wanderer lowered his hand, and just as it appeared the cord left his arm.

"There's a washroom there." The shadow pointed to a door. "Clean yourself. You will find all you need there. There are clean clothes inside the wardobre."

With these words, he left and closed the door.

The wanderer noted he heard no key clicking.

He held his wrist, at the regions where he felt the cord before. He cold see a small red line forming a spiral around it. If it held any tighter, it could have drawn blood. He shivered at the idea.

He was completely at the mercy of that man, and he still had no idea of what his intentions were.

He checked the wardobre, and as the stranger said inside was a complete set of clothing. The wanderer touched them, feeling the expensive fabric in his hands. It has been too long since he had last had real clothes.

He entered the washroom, that had not only everything he would need for a bath but also a good amount of medical supplies.

He spent a long time in the water, not sparing any soap. He scrubbed every inch of his body, until it scratched his skin. When at last he felt clean, he let out a laugh. It felt good.

The wanderer realized there was no mirror there. It was a small relief. He had not seen his own cursed face in years and had no wishes of seeing it so soon.

He cleaned his worse wounds, but saw no need for bandages. He found a small pair of scissors, and guided only by instinct cut his own hair.

He fumbled with buttons as he tried the clothes. They were too big for his unhealthily thin body, but they were comfortable and had a nice cologne smell. He decided to stay in only shirts and pants, ignoring the other pieces that he didn't know how to wear.

He felt like a new man, clean and (almost) properly dressed.

Like the room he was in, the washroom also didn't have any windows. He had no idea of where he was or why. He couldn't even know what time of the day it was. There was a melody playing again. Carefully, he went for the door, the only exit he saw.

 

Erik left his new guest and waited by his piano. He listened carefully, and only when he was sure the man was bathing he resumed his song.

A guest, he laughed to himself as his fingers created the melody on their own. Yes, he had a house and he had a guest room, why not have a guest? Even more fitting that it was someone who just like himself would be considered an outsider by human society.

At least Erik assumed he would, by the state he was, and by the injuries he carried, certainly caused by another man. He would not be surprised if the man had said he had a family waiting for him. If he was born in the right place, he could have a wife, even with his marks. It was probably not a success with ladies, but surely there was a woman who saw his beauty beyond that!

But he seemed as alone as Erik himself. He had an accent, but even with all his trips Erik could not tell where it was from. Maybe he grew up in a multicultural environment, maybe it was just that no one taught him proper pronunciation.

Erik had a guess of where he came from, the mark and his wounds and his speech and clothes and scent, all fitting perfectly. But he didn't want to believe it.

The notes he played grew dissonant. Then, the sound of the door opening made him stop.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, not turning to face the man.

"Yes."

He nodded.

"Erik will prepare some food. You will like it."

He walked to the kitchen, feeling the man following him.

As Erik started taking the ingredients for their meal, still not facing the man, he heard him ask:

"Where am I?"

"In my house, as I said."

"You didn't lock the door." His voice trembled.

"You are no prisoner of Erik." He said calmly.

"Why am I here?"

Erik shrugged.

"Do you have anywhere else to be?"

As he didn't receive a reply, Erik glanced at the man, not keeping his sight on him for long. He had his head low.

The bath did him wonders, as did the haircut. It was not perfect, uneven at some parts, but Erik had to give him merit for doing it without a mirror.

He knew he would stare if he allowed himself to. The man had green eyes, green like the leaves made by Mother Nature. The clothes made his malnourishment more obvious. Erik noticed he did not measure the food for two, but for a full family of six. He started boiling the water.

"Erik found you nearby." He explained. "You seemed cold. The cellars are no place to sleep."

"I know." The man sighed. "I would not be there if I had a choice."

Erik nodded.

"No one wants to live in the catacombs of hell if they have a choice."

He stole another glance at the man. The over sized shirt was not buttoned correctly. Erik had to hold himself to not fix it himself.

"Erik will give you new sheets for tonight."

"Who is Erik?"

"I am Erik, of course." He realized his mistake. "Please forgive my way of expressing myself. I am not used to having guests."

 

The wanderer nodded, the word "guest" echoing in his mind. So far, no more hostility from the shadow- from Erik. But he could still feel the cord around his arm, it still made him fear and be careful with his words.

When Erik served the food, the wanderer did not hold himself. He would have been more ashamed of eating like a savage, like an animal in front of a man who acted so much as a gentleman. But he was hungry, his last meal had been days ago.

He noticed Erik avoided looking at him, and he couldn't blame him for that. But he looked at Erik, maybe for longer than he should. He couldn't help it. Erik moved in a way that could only be described as fascinating. Every part of his body was hidden behind black fabric, making he really seem like a walking shadow. His voice was softer than most of the men's voice that he ever heard.

The wanderer figured Erik could not eat with his mask on. He waited expectantly for him to take it off, but he never did. Despite putting a plate in front of himself, he didn't serve any.

The wanderer ate quickly, until he felt full. There was still a lot of food left. Erik did not comment on his lack of manners or on how much he ate. The wanderer stared at him awkwardly, not sure of what to do or say now.

But Erik didn't seem to notice, instead with his gaze lowered to his own hands. The wanderer finally decided to stand up. As Erik didn't protest, he left to the room where he woke up in.

He sat on the floor, thinking of what now. After an hour or so, he heard music again. He had seen Erik by the piano before, so he guessed it was him playing. The melody made him feel calm, even if he had all reasons to feel anything but. It was comforting, even with the underlying melancholy there. He imagined Erik's hands running through the piano keys, and his own hands followed the movements. His eyes closed and he stopped thinking, stopped worrying. All he felt was the music.

 

Erik knocked on the door before opening it. His guest was sitting on the floor. Once again, Erik tried not to stare. He instead went to change the bed sheets.

"You didn't try to run away."

"You said I was no prisoner."

The man sounded much calmer than he did earlier. Erik appreciated that.

"You acted as if you believed you were."

The man took a while to reply.

"It's like you said. There's no one to miss me if I disappear. I have no one, nowhere to go." There was just a little sadness in his voice.

Erik just nodded, feeling some sadness too.

"What do you expect from me?" The man asked.

"Nothing."

"No one gives someone a thing expecting nothing." The man snorted. "Specially not to someone like me."

"Erik has been alone before too." He explained. _I still am_ , he didn't add. "With nowhere to go. With nothing but his own clothes."

The man gave him a questioning look. Those green eyes...

 

Time passed fast in that house with no windows. The wanderer found a clock, but the numbers meant little to him.

Erik did not seem to give it much consideration anyway. He served food whenever the wanderer was hungry, and never ate or slept when he was around. He wasn't sure if Erik ever ate or slept at all. Sometimes he left to take care of his business.

The wanderer saw the entrance to the house. It was a complete darkness outside. He never tried leaving. He had no reason to.

Erik was not a bad company. He was always playing or taking care of some chore around the house. The wanderer learned that he composed his own music, writing down the notes after playing, always in red ink. But sometimes, when he was about to sleep, he could swear he recognized some old lullaby there.

Erik also never removed the mask. The wanderer did not feel like asking about it. He would not have recognized Erik if he did. He didn't know anyone. He didn't fail to notice that Erik never revealed his surname, nor any other detail about himself. He entertained him when he wanted to talk, but on the rare occasion the wanderer asked something, his replies were vague.

There were no windows anywhere in the house, and Erik never received anyone there. Yet he had a guest room. He kept the house on his own, never asking for any help and certainly never receiving it from any outsider.

The wanderer felt well there. He had a roof over his head, though he had no idea where they were, and a company that did not insult or abuse him. He had food and clothes and nice background music. He wondered if that was what a normal life felt like.

But when he thought about Erik and all the mysteries about him, about the way he treated him well but would never look at him for long, he couldn't help but have strange thoughts. He felt he was being kept just like a pet. Erik must be a rich man, he had no doubts of it, and he had reasons to hide his identity. It felt terrible, to think that he was being cared for but still seen as inferior, as less than human. But it was still better than the circus and the cage, than being beaten and displayed, hearing people's screams and mocking. Had he any right of wanting to be treated as an equal? He should be thankful for everything that Erik gave him.

Being a pet to a nice master was still better than being free in a merciless world.

 

Erik did not see a problem with the man staying at his house. He expected to. He planned on making him go away soon.

Every day that passed made him want it less and less.

He did not think having someone around would feel so nice. How lonely had he been before!

It was like having a new purpose in life. He did not want to stay away long, what if his guest needed something? And he couldn't even think of doing anything dangerous. He had to go back home, he had to be there.

Erik's overall mood improved. He wasn't as picky about the happenings at his opera house anymore. It didn't feel as important anymore. Not as important as pampering the man that lived with him.

He bought clothes that fitted him. He was glad to see the man gaining some weight, as he now ate properly. Erik also made sure to buy enough provisions to always give him nice meals. The man still didn't dress properly, but if he felt comfortable showing so much of his skin like that, Erik would not be the one to complain. It made it hard not to stare though. Be it for the scars that covered his body, or by how nice it looked.

And wasn't the man blessed when it came to looks? The mark on his face was the only flaw, and even that seemed small near all his other attributes. As he got healthier, his body got a pleasant overall shape. More often than he wished to, Erik found himself wanting to see more. Wanting to sketch such beauty, such perfection, so he could have a proof that it existed when he left.

Because Erik knew he would eventually leave. Because as much as Erik wanted him to stay forever, he knew he would leave, and he should. He had so much potential in him, he could not stay underground forever.

Erik knew his life would never be the same when he did. Now that he knew what it felt like to have the company of a real person, how could he go back to being alone? The silence of the night would be too much without his snoring, his life would be too empty without hearing his soft humming every day as he bathed, without feeling his presence sitting around as Erik composed.

Erik was proud of himself that he didn't make the man want to leave yet. He tried his best not to scare him out. He didn't allow himself to stare, as much as he wished. He never walked around the house without his mask. Even his room, he left locked at all times, not wanting him to see that his host lived like a dead man. He also was careful as he spoke.

And it worked well. More often than not, the man was around him. He didn't show the fear that was so clear during the first days anymore, and he didn't hesitate expressing his needs. They had a nice relationship.

Erik never expected it to go so well.

One day, however, he realized the reason. He saw the man looking at a wall, a longing look on his face. He realized he had never left the house since the day Erik brought him there.

"Have you ever worn a full suit?" Erik suddenly asked.

"A couple of times." The man replied, not turning at him. 

Most of their conversations did not include eye contact. Erik was okay with that. Not really, as he wished he could look at the other man more often, but it was better this way.

"You should wear one now."

"Any special reason for it?"

Erik shrugged.

"I think we could see a nice night outside."

 

He didn't want to tell Erik that he did not know how to put those clothes on. There was so much he did not know, and he couldn't not feel inferior near Erik.

The wanderer did the best he could, wearing it as it seemed right.

Erik smiled as he saw him. He wore them completely wrong. There was something adorable in it.

"You look beautiful." Erik commented, sincerely.

The wanderer turned to the side, his brows furrowing. It seemed a nice idea, a night walk outside. It has been a while since he last was outside. But Erik's comment reminded him of why. It felt safe in his house. He was used even to the way Erik always avoided looking at him. There were no daily insults, and no mirrors. He could let himself not think of his own appearance for as long as he wished.

Erik probably did not mean to be so cruel in his comment, but it hurt.

"I... I think I don't want to go."

Erik let his eyes met the wanderer for a moment. He felt something was off.

"What is the problem?"

"You won't want to be seen with me." The wanderer pointed to himself. He felt so stupid for agreeing and even getting excited with the idea. He knew he _looked_  stupid.

"Don't worry, no one will see us." Erik said, hoping to ease his worries. He knew there was almost no one out in the streets that late. It was his favorite time to leave his house.

It didn't help. The wanderer was starting to feel it was only one cruel joke.

Erik noticed something was still off. After thinking for some time, he had an idea.

"Wait here." He said, walking to his room.

Erik came back with another mask in his hands. It was the one he usually wore at home (before he had his guest around), one that left mouth and chin uncovered. He handed it to the wanderer.

"You will feel better with this."

The wanderer took it in his hands and silently thought. Back in the circus, he was allowed to cover his head when he wasn't being displayed. He didn't think of doing so now that he was free, but it was mostly because Erik didn't make him feel like he had to. Which was ironic, as Erik covered his own face all the time. He smiled at the thought that no one could tell how they didn't match if they were both covered, and decided to put it on.

Erik offered the wanderer a hand, that he quickly accepted. The two walked together out of the house, towards the darkness.

"Where exactly are we?" The wanderer asked.

"Not too far from where I found you."

The wanderer nodded. He had figured the house was underground.

"Are we still-"

"Under the opera? Yes." Erik replied. It was no use trying to hide it now.

"How is this possible?" The wanderer asked, amazed that a whole house could be located there.

"I knew some people." Erik shrugged. He did not feel like telling the whole story. Not yet.

"It's amazing." The wanderer looked down. Erik was really amazing.

Erik shrugged again.

"I will teach you how to locate yourself around here. If you wish so, of course." He offered. "It's not that hard. You just must be careful."

"Yes, I heard there are dangers around." The wanderer remembered the nice lady who brought him there.

"But you don't need to be afraid. I assure you I am the most dangerous thing around." Erik said with some pride.

The wanderer rolled his eyes.

"I don't believe you."

"It's true! I have a certain fame around here too."

"Yeah, yeah." The wanderer said in a playful tone.

Erik frowned at how he was not being taken seriously, but something in how naturally the wanderer dismissed him, or in the way his lips curled up in a smile, something there gave him a warm feeling.

Erik guided the wanderer towards the Rue Scribe door, the safest and easiest way out. They stopped for a few minutes as the wanderer caught a glimpse of the lake. He looked at it with wonder in his eyes.

"It's wonderful."

Erik nodded, but it was not the lake that he had in mind.

Once they got outside, the winded greeted them with a cold blow. They walked side by side on the empty streets, under a starry sky. The moon shone in its full glory, offering its silver light.

The wanderer's bare hand unconsciously moved towards Erik's gloved one. He realized he was no longer afraid.

"The sky is beautiful today, isn't it?" Erik asked.

The wanderer nodded.

"It really is."

"Nights as this are the most inspiring." More than he could tell.

"For your music?"

"Yes." Erik nodded. He felt suddenly bold. After long weeks holding himself, he felt he now could express himself more freely. "Of course, it is only better with such a charming company."

The wanderer felt like he was stabbed. His hand let go of Erik's.

Erik looked at him, not understanding.

"Do you want to go back?" He asked.

"Yes, I would like to." The wanderer said, his eyes not meeting Erik's.

"Of course. My pretty boy should not stay out in the cold for so long." Erik cursed his words as soon as they left his mouth. Too fast, too soon.

The wanderer was a few steps ahead of Erik, remembering well the way they came from. He didn't want to look at Erik, he didn't want to even be near Erik. Tears filled his eyes. He had believed Erik was different. He had believed his intentions were true, which made his mocking only more painful.

Erik was sure that any moment he was going to turn to a different street and go away forever. Why, why did he have to flirt like a young maiden? He didn't have even the right to stand near the wanderer, and he had to ruin everything asking for more. His incapacity of contenting himself with what he got, his ambition for more, that was going to be the death of him someday!

The wanderer stopped by the secret door, as only Erik had the key. Erik soon reached him, and with some difficulty, as his hands trembled, unlocked the entrance.

"Erik is sorry!" He exclaimed, his back to the wanderer. "Erik d- I didn't want to scare you."

The wanderer said nothing. Again, he walked ahead of Erik, his steps hard on the stone. Erik kept his senses alert, worried that he would accidentally get into a trap or call someone's attention with the noise.

He only relaxed when they safely arrived at his house. Door safely closed, he finally asked.

"Please tell Erik how to fix it, pretty boy!"

"Stop calling me that!" The wanderer yelled, finally facing Erik. His eyes were red with anger and sadness. "I'm not a boy, and I'm certainly not pretty!" He took off the mask and threw it to the floor.

"Erik is old enough to be your father." He felt a lump in his throat.

"I have a name."

"You never told Erik what it is."

It was true. The wanderer had never said his name to Erik, nor to anyone else. It was the last dignity he could have, never allowing anyone to insult him with his true name.

He noticed Erik did not justify calling him pretty.

"Call me what I really am." He said with a low voice, a tear threatening to finally fall. "A freak!"

Erik froze at the word. It was true then, that it was no accident that the wanderer was alone and injured when he found him. He had tasted some of human's cruelty before they met.

"You are not a freak." He said in a firm tone.

The wanderer let out a humorless laugh.

"I know _pretty_  well what I am." The tear fell. "I almost believed that it was not how you see me, but I know well that you only mock me with all of this!"

Erik growled in frustration.

"You think I see _you_  as a freak? I will show you what a freak really is!" He shouted, before taking off his mask.

The wanderer's eyes widened as he saw Erik's face for the first time.

Erik sighed.

"This is a freak." His voice sounded defeated. "You, boy, are just a handsome young man in an unfortunate circumstance."

The wanderer kept frozen in place as Erik left to his own room. He stared at the mask Erik lent him, and all the pieces finally fell into place.

He stopped at Erik's room's door. It was the only place in the house he never entered. He pondered if he should knock or not, and decided to just enter.

The first thing that caught his attention was the coffin at the center. Erik sat on the floor, his back leaning against it, looking blankly at the wall. The mask rested by his side.

Not knowing what words to say, the wanderer sat by his side.

"I should have let you know sooner." Erik said, not looking at him.

"You should have." The wanderer nodded. "Why didn't you?"

"I wasn't ready to lose you."

The wanderer rested his head on his shoulder.

"You thought I, of all people, would be this shallow?" He asked in a soft tone.

"You thought so about me."

The wanderer could not deny it.

"Gerard."

"What?" Erik asked.

"My name. Gerard. You are the first person besides my parents to know it."

Erik's arm moved around his waist, pulling him in an embrace.

"It's a fitting name."

A comfortable silence followed, as each man enjoyed the other's touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a side fluff. Enjoy!

Gerard woke up to an unusual silence. His mind was still in the remnants of an unpleasant dream. Normally the house was filled with Erik's music. He figured he should be asleep.

(Gerard still didn't know when Erik slept, he seemed to be always awake, always playing.)

It was uncomfortable. The music always helped to ease his mind. Without it, there was nothing keeping his mind from the bad memories, still so fresh, so real.

Noticing he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, Gerard decided to leave the room. He was greeted by the sight of Erik resting his head on the table, deep asleep.

It moved something in Gerard's heart, seeing him like that. For maybe the first time, Erik looked vulnerable, without his usual powerful aura. It was nice. What was not nice was that he would sleep like that, in such an uncomfortable position, still fully clothed and masked. Shaking his head, Gerard approached and slowly removed the mask, careful to not wake Erik up. He smiled at his relaxed expression.

Gerard carefully picked Erik up in his arms, not wanting to disturb him. It was easy, Erik was very light. He walked towards the older man's room, but stopped. He knew Erik used a coffin instead of a bed, and while he did not judge, the idea of putting someone so dear into it was unpleasant.

The only proper bed in the house was in Gerard's room. He carried Erik there instead, making sure he was covered and comfortable. He sat down on the floor besides the bed, giving one soft caress to Erik's thin hair. Feeling more daring, Gerard pecked his forehead.

"That's nice." Erik mumbled.

Gerard's eyes widened.

"Erik! I'm sorry, I mean, I didn't, I just-"

Erik opened his eyes.

"Do you like me, Gerard?"

Gerard nodded. Erik reached his hand out, stopping his fingers just by his skin.

"It has been a while that I wish some unspeakable things from you. You should not-"

"I love you." Gerard interrupted him.

It was Erik's turn to be wide eyed.

"Are you sure of what you are saying?"

"I would never use this word lightly." Gerard approached again, this time kissing Erik's cheek. He quickly pulled away. "I'm sorry. I hope this was included in these unspeakable kiss. I mean, I understand that you wouldn't want... I mean, who would... Not from me... I mean..." Gerard stuttered, looking down.

Erik sobbed. Gerard looked up again, worried.

"I'm sorry! Erik, I didn't want to-"

Erik touched his finger to Gerard's lips. His eyes were teary.

"I couldn't express in words how happy this makes me, Gerard."

"Do you mean it?"

"I would not take this lightly."

Very slowly, Erik approached his lips to Gerard's, and touched in a chaste kiss.

"I love you, Gerard."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to opera-ghost on tumblr, who first came up with the pairing, and to everyone in the Palais Garnier Hellpit who gave me all the support.


End file.
